The Ancient Paths

“Thus says the Lord: “Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls. But they said, ‘We will not walk in it.’” (Jeremiah 6:16, ESV)

When I first obeyed the gospel, my mother’s first emotion was not pride. It was fear. Around that time, national media outlets were running stories about the International Churches of Christ; then often called the “Boston Movement.” In 1992, TIME magazine profiled the group as one of the world’s fastest-growing religious movements, while programs like 20/20, Inside Edition, and The Oprah Winfrey Show aired segments describing it as controlling and cult-like. My mother saw one of those broadcasts and thought I had joined that same kind of group. She did not know there was a difference between them and the group I was part of. Her worry was rooted in love, but it also revealed something larger: when people lose trust in what they hear called “church,” fear fills the vacuum.

That same fear takes a new shape today. What television once sensationalized, social media amplifies. Then, people feared “cults.” Now, many fear “organized religion.” Such reactions rise from disappointment with what they believe Christianity to be. The current word for that disappointment might be deconstruction, the process of dismantling one’s faith to see what, if anything, can be rebuilt.

For some, it begins in pain. They trusted leaders who failed them. Others start questioning traditions that never made sense. The desire to examine faith is not wrong. The danger lies in the direction of the search. When Scripture ceases to be the measure of truth, the self becomes its own authority. What begins as reflection often ends as rejection.

The term deconstruction did not begin in church circles. It came from philosopher Jacques Derrida, whose work in Of Grammatology (1976 English Ed.) argued that every text carries hidden assumptions and that meaning is never final or fixed.¹ When that suspicion enters theology, even the Bible becomes one more human document to be decoded. Scripture uses a different word, δοκιμάζω (dokimazō, “to test, prove genuine”²). Paul writes, “Test yourselves to see whether you are in the faith” (2 Corinthians 13.5). The image is of metal refined by fire. The goal is purity, not destruction. Biblical testing strengthens trust in revelation; philosophical deconstruction dissolves it.

God’s people have always faced the temptation to reshape faith by their own design. Scripture calls instead for reform grounded in revelation. The prophets pleaded, “Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it” (Jeremiah 6.16). The apostles called the early church to continue in “the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship” (Acts 2.42). True renewal never begins with tearing down. It begins with hearing again what God has already spoken.

Biblical primitivism flows from that conviction. It is not nostalgia for a simpler age but confidence that divine revelation is complete and sufficient. To be primitive in faith is to measure every belief and practice against the message revealed by Christ and His apostles (2 Timothy 3.16-17; Ephesians 2.20). It is the refusal to treat the Word as a rough draft open to endless revision. When everything else is questioned, the way forward is not reinvention but return to the text.

Many younger believers wrestle with doubt because they were taught conclusions but not the reasoning beneath them. Faith inherited without understanding feels fragile when tested. The answer is not silence or suppression of questions but clarity anchored in the Word. Acts 17.11 commends the Bereans for examining the Scriptures daily. That same spirit, open and humble yet text-centered, still builds conviction today. The problem is not doubt but direction. Doubt can move us toward truth or away from it. The serpent’s first question, “Did God really say?” (Genesis 3.1), was not honest inquiry but suspicion disguised as wisdom. Deconstruction repeats that move when it treats every truth claim as suspect. Biblical primitivism breaks the cycle by restoring trust in revelation.

For those disillusioned with churches, the invitation is not to start over but to return home. The gospel already contains its own renewal cycle: repentance, obedience, fellowship, and hope. Acts 2.42 gives the pattern that still reforms hearts and congregations. The gospel’s design has not changed, though cultures and generations do.

My mother’s concern came from love. My confidence grew from Scripture. Both matter. The church can honor love and truth when compassion stands on conviction. Every generation faces its own crisis of trust. Yet the Lord’s call never changes: “Return to Me, and I will return to you” (Zechariah 1.3). The church does not need deconstruction. It needs reformation shaped by revelation. Faith refined, not replaced.

References

1. Derrida, J. (1976). Of Grammatology (G. C. Spivak, Trans.). Johns Hopkins University Press.
2. Bauer, W., Arndt, W. F., & Gingrich, F. W. (2000). A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (3rd ed., p. 255). University of Chicago Press.
3. Caputo, J. D. (1997). Deconstruction in a Nutshell: A Conversation with Jacques Derrida. Fordham University Press.